


Fake

by Running_on_a_rake (s_Sparrow_s)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Drama, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, POV First Person, Songfic, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_Sparrow_s/pseuds/Running_on_a_rake
Summary: Bill says: this could be our lullaby. The song of the extinct Great Bear and the funeral lament of the universe.
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Fake

He says it's not real. That reality is the definition of the boring confines of human consciousness, and that one day we may Wake up on different sides of the planet, not knowing who we are, and not remembering each other's faces or names.  
The stifling dampness smells of river sand. The air is a deep muddy bottom, and his voice sinks into the ceiling, surrounded by peeling plaster.  
I'm not afraid to Wake up and lose it. His hands are always cold and his eyes are acrid. It doesn't speak — it's a drug of words. When he kisses me, the tart taste of wormwood lingers on my tongue for a long time.  
He says we may have become each other's last vision. That he might have lost something very important to live for, and now, lying on the floor of a shabby rented cell, surrounded by prescription forms and empty red cans, he is choking on his own vomit. And I'm bleeding out on the battlefield on the knees of the one who tried to save me, with my chest torn open and my heart throbbing faintly in the gap of the bloody mess. And in a couple of seconds, death shuffles the cards. Instead of a farewell kiss on the forehead, it gives us a new reality for an eternity without Windows or doors.

Our private, musty world at the intersection of many dimensions.

Bill says: this could be our lullaby. The song of the extinguished stars of Great Bear and the funeral lament of the universe. 

He gives a dry, barking laugh and pulls a battered deck of cards from under his pillow. I object, watching her pale, long fingers shuffle the flowery mess.  
— Let's say you're right. Only, you know, life rarely ends so poetically. You could easily have had a stroke. And I want to get, say, run over by a car.

Long-fingered hands freeze in the shuffle of cards. Bill leans forward flexibly and presses his lips to my shoulder, which leads down to my protruding ribs. It freezes right in front of your heart. He grins at the absence of his heartbeat.  
"You're not a romantic, are you, pine?"  
A couple of hours earlier, he had fucked me, putting me on my knees and twisting my hands behind my back. Not the first or last time. Given that I didn't mind, this is almost a laughable way to put it.

I run my fingers along the back of his neck, where the bite mark is turning dark and red. Shrug their shoulders.

"Can you tell my fortune?"

"Past or future?"

— I doubt we still have a future, bill.

His tongue runs wet and long under his ribs. Maps are scattered around, Islands of color on sheets. He smiles slyly from under his pale lashes and offers, holding my knees apart:  
"Choose any one.

Bill penetrates me, long prepared, with one long, deep thrust. He pushes her back on the bed and fills her with a delicious weight at the same time as a new movement of her hips. I open my mouth with a soundless cry, and he licks the breath from my lips, not letting it sink into the thick, stifling air. I find one of the cards by touch. I crush it in my fist, but before I turn my head, I catch a glimpse of the city burning to the ground.  
On the second map, the shooting star is covered in blood. Bill snatches it out of my hands and throws it somewhere on the floor. And then he kisses her, silencing her protest. Wormwood is mixed with acrid soot. He moves in me slowly and deeply, and I, exhausted from the lack of sensations, myself lean forward to meet him and press my lips under the line of my jaw. I run my tongue around it, sobbing, feeling incredibly full and empty at the same time, and then I kiss his neck feverishly and jerkily, all the way down to his angular, thin shoulder.

The air is filled with his low moan and heat-quivering heat. A haze of ash. The smell of burning flesh makes you sick and dizzy.

Bill slightly squeezes his fingers around my throat, which brings me to a critical point. It shoots a long electric flash down my back. A flash of pleasure opens up inside her, liberating her. Hot and full, sharp to the point of shivering. I pour into his fist, and he shuts my moaning mouth with his tongue and, as if deliberately waiting for this moment, comes himself, driving into my body with such a fierce thirst that I, already weakened, re-arches in his hands.  
I'm still breathing hard and resting my forehead on his shoulder as he carefully pulls a third card from my convulsively clenched fingers. He hands it to me and for some reason looks away.

A wide-open eye with a narrow serpentine pupil crossed with jagged scarlet lines.

Not knowing what the hell is behind these symbols, I look at bill, and for a second I think that the hot and sticky yellow of his eyes reflects the city, covered with a wall of fire. And a broken, charred girl's body, and someone's heart, throbbing wetly in a mess of crushed bones.

I ask very quietly:  
"What's all this about, bill?"

After these words, one of the walls of our pocket universe suddenly goes deep cracks. There is a tightness inside me, a searing fire not of pain, but of its faint echo, and I feel my mouth grow hot and salty. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and see that it is smeared with scarlet. 

— It means that you…

Bill stops for a few very long, tense seconds. He grabs my wrists, squeezes them with cold fingers, and I don't see the faintest hint of a smile in the venomous, cold curve of his mouth.   
The crack in the wall deepens and leads across the entire area in a thin, patterned web. The smell of burning and soot makes it impossible to breathe.

Bill loosens his grip and reaches out to close my eyes with a short, jerky gesture.

And then I know, without looking: at his will, the ashes and the quivering haze of heat disappear without a trace. Overgrown, restoring the sanctity of the universe with an area the size of a cheap Motel room, a broken wall.

His lips touch mine,and his soft whisper is a bitter wormwood smell.

"It means you've lost."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope for your hits and reviews.


End file.
